


Ace in the Subway

by Kimra



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Beginnings, Detectives, Gay Male Character, Original Character(s), Other, Post-WW2, Private Investigators, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 23:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21279290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimra/pseuds/Kimra
Summary: She used to get dolled up and sing for the war efforts, now she's got better things to do like keep her brother out of jail for murder.





	Ace in the Subway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophiegaladheon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiegaladheon/gifts).

> Amelia is not specifically or explicitly shown to be asexual or aromantic in this fic. It would not have been organic for her to declare it in the sequence of this story. But if anyone is in doubt: Amelia is so very very aroace and both her brother and friend know and support her life choices.

The phone downstairs starts ringing at 5am, and Amelia wakes enough to know it’s ringing and that she’s still tired. The boarding house is quiet at this hour, so she listens to the murmur of the night-matron and then her light steps as she climbs up to the third floor. Amelia already knows it’s going to be for her, even though she asked no-one to call at night the calls still come.

The gentle knock on her door cinches the deal so she throws her covers back in a brave move that exposes her to the chill winter air, and draws her nightgown on as she opens the door a crack.

“There’s a call for you,” the night-matron whispers.

“Yeah,” Amelia fumbles with the tie for her gown, “I’ll be right down.”

“It’s your brother, he sounds… strained.”

Amelia throws her door open, pushes past the night-matron, and bolts down the stairs to grab the phone.

“Darren?” She breathes.

“Oh good,” he drawls, “didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep.” He’s got a shake to his voice. He was on the front lines two years ago and she’s never heard him shaken before.

“What’s wrong?” She demands.

“I should’na called-“

“Where are you?” She picks up the pen and tilts the note pad on the little desk to her. “None of that-“ she warns when he goes to speak again, “you need me, I’m coming.”

He sighs a long juddering sound and tells her where he is.

Amelia stomps up the police station steps and straight to the front counter.

“What can-“

“I’m here to see my brother.” She slaps down her identification and glares at the officer. He gives her a cursory look over and then spends an overly long time authenticating her identification. She folds her arms and taps her foot impatiently but holds her tongue.

Eventually he puts a call down the corridor and another officer comes to collect her.

“Cell four, the Subway Stop Killer.” He 

“Have I seen you before?” The officer asks as he walks her through the station.

“Not unless you hang out down Brooklyn way.” She dismisses quickly.

“Wish I did.” He comes to a stop at the holding cells door, keys in his hand turns to her and tucks his hands into his belt. Amelia looks at the door, then the officer, shoulders squaring up in preparation. “So where-“

“No.” She stops him a hand raised between them because she does not want to hear it. “I am here to talk to my brother. Not to deal with-“ she flicks her hand at the air between them, “-whatever you think is happening here.” 

“Hey-“ He starts, offended.

“The door, officer. Or I will have words with your superior.” She turns to face the door, and watches him out of the corner of her eye in case there’s an issue. But other than grumbling to himself as he opens the door he leaves her alone.

“Cell four.” He grunts at her.

“Thank you, officer.” She parts and steps into the corridor.

There’s several men in each cell until she gets to cell four where it’s only her brother, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, elbows on knees, and his fingers dug into his foppish hair. He’s the only man in his cell, the cell opposite him has been left empty as well, and he looks worse for wear.

“Let me get a look at you, brother-mine.” She orders, and his head shoots up, and the weary expression becomes hopeful. “On your feet.” She insists, and he does it, jumps to his feet and holds his hands out so she can see all of him. “Turn around.” She insists and he does it slowly. There is nothing remarkable about him, a tear in his pants by the ankle, but no marks, no stains, nothing to indicate anything untoward.

“Done?” He asks when he’s facing her again, and then they both move up to the bars, her hands sliding in to hold his arm and him beaming at her.

“What have you been doing?” She asks quietly, and he shakes his head in denial. Wild fierce, desperate for her to know.

“They picked me up walking home last night. I ain’t done nothing bad- illegal.” He corrects quickly.

“Alright, tell me exactly what you’ve told them, then tell me everything else.”

“See you, Blue!” Darren calls as the doors close behind them and Amelia fixes her cap, straightens her uniform jacket and pretends her brother isn’t the biggest fool in New York. He steps down, slings his arm around her shoulder and gives her a once over. “I like this new look you have going.”

“So do I.” She agrees, but doesn't say what she wants to say until they’re two blocks away.

“We should get the subway.” He tries to reason when it becomes clear she’s planning to walk wherever they’re going. She glares at him for his stupidity.

“Maybe, since they just arrested you for the murder of five women on the subway, you should figure out how to use your legs for once.” She grits out, and is pleased when he seems to realise exactly what she’s saying. “In fact,” she turns around to stop him, “don’t even say the word. Don’t think it. Don’t breathe it, don’t even look at a subway. Imagine, if you have to,” she explains carefully, as if to a slow child, “that any interaction with a subway from this moment on will land you on Death Row.”

He raises his hand, as if to argue then deflates, “You may have a point. Alright, where to first?”

“You’ve keeping your nose out of it and getting breakfast.” She instructs, and he makes a pained noise. “But first,” she checks there’s no-one nearby and rounds on him. “Tell me his name.”

His expression goes blank, and then red, and then blank again. “Aw no.” He shakes his head. “Come on you don’t wanna know that.”

“Darren, they think you’re a serial killer. I spread the truth real thin to get you out of there, but they’re gonna keep asking questions and you don’t want to tell them, so you have to tell me.”

He squints at morning sky, gloved hands tucked into his jacket pocket and she waits him out, “Bedelia, Scott Bedelia.” He tells her quietly, “But we aint-“

“I don’t care,” she interrupts, then softer, “about any of that.” She does some quick calculations, “You were at his house all night?”

“Yeah, I snuck out at midnight. Look it’s- complicated.” He grimaced at his own word and she snorted.

“When isn’t it with you?” She thinks Darren’s always going to be complicated, but this latest mess is more than she was expecting. “Alright, buy me some coffee then get to Dad’s, and don’t go anywhere on my own.”

“No-one’s trying to kill me, Amy.” He argues.

“No,” she drags out, “but if you got an alibi, then they can’t say you were off murdering girls on your own! Use the brain god gifted you with for once, Darren!”

“Hey miss,” they’re interrupted by a young man shouting from across the street, “hey I know your face!”

“Get lost you creep!” She shouts right back before she grabs her brothers arm and hauls him to the nearest diner.

Lily’s waiting cross-legged on Amelia’s bed when she gets back, “Are you solving another crime?” she begs excitedly.

“We aren’t doing anything.” Amelia runs her fingers through her hair in frustration, then ignoring the intruder face plants onto her bed.

“The night-matron said you got a call from the police station, then you didn’t come home all day.”

“Let me sleep.” Amelia begged her friend, but Lily was a force of natural energy and instead crawled onto Amelia’s back and perched her elbows into Amelia’s back.

“You promised you’d take me next time.” Lily sing-songed, and Amelia wiggled her shoulders to try and dislodge the other girl. “And I wake up to find you left me behind. I thought we were a team.”

Amelia mumbled her reply into the mattress, and when Lily sprawled out over her back to ask her to repeat herself she lifted her head and said, “They think my brothers the Subway Stop killer.”

“Oh, I’d heard there was another murder last night,” Lily climbs off her back and lays on the bed beside her, “that’s too bad.”

“He’s not!” Amelia clarifies because there’s something in Lily’s tone that sounds like resignation. “He was visiting his _married_ lover’s apartment at the time. So he’s got no alibi.”

Lily makes an ‘ish’ noise then perks up.

“Does that mean you have to find the real killer?”

Amelia make a sad noise of her own, her feet hurt, three ex-GI’s recognised her in Scott Bedelia’s building and one of them had told her she looked better back during the war. She’d punched him in the nose but been kicked out of the building and she’d had to climb into Scott Bedelia’s window to talk. He’d been several shades not-happy, and by that point she didn’t care.

What mattered though, was that her brother hadn’t been lying, and even cheating on his wife with a man Scott Bedelia had been willing to corroborate the story to her. Even if he’d begged her to never tell anyone. She hadn’t sworn, but she’d never tell. No Lily was right, she was going to have to solve this on her own.

**Author's Note:**

> My aim was to sound like I know what I’m saying about history, but I did not.


End file.
